Once there was
by HeavyRotation
Summary: Mary Poppins is as wonderful as mysterious. But what lies in her past and just how did she become the person we all know? Chapter 2: Mary's life drastically changes quite young.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Mary Poppins and the other characters belong to PL Travers and Disney… the characters in this fic in particular actually belong to Disney. The story is based on the movie, not the books. I make no money of this, I'm just having fun.

------------------------------------------

Constance Rose was a beautiful young woman with the most gorgeous blue eyes and auburn hair locals at Banstead, Surrey had ever seen. At 17 her pretty figure and beautiful features made men constantly turn their heads whenever she passed them by. That there was always a smile on her face made her practically glow, puzzling all those who knew her. It made her quite an odd young girl given her background. She was only a few weeks old when she was discovered on the steps of the local orphanage. There was no note as to who she was and why she was abandoned. There were no witnesses who could have seen how she got there either. The only clue the workers of the orphanage had was the fresh footsteps on wet ground, but even those were soon destroyed by the heavy November rain.

Since no newborn baby was reported –or noted—missing from the surrounding area, they concluded she had to have been brought in from somewhere else. Despite having been abandoned and being rather frail and sick for quite long, she had been nothing but a good natured, fun loving girl, even as a baby. So she was named Constance after her constant smile and given the last name Rose for her always rosy cheeks. The name turned out awfully appropriate, she was well loved by the other children as well as her care takers. She seemed to find joy in everything in order to shut out the gloomy side of life. Her only family was the orphanage whose occupants kept coming and going. That nobody ended up adopting her didn't seem to get to her, not on the outside at least. There were two or three couples that had initially shown interest but for some reason they all changed their minds. Despite her surroundings, the girl grew up to mind her manners, be highly perceptive and possess a grace of the high society's caliber. It was only the clothes that gave away her social status.

It was 1867 when the 17 year old first met a then 20 year old young man, named Alastair. It was love at first sight for both even if their personalities were quite different. Alastair was often described as proud, even conceited at times but his fun loving nature and commitment was a great lure as well as the perfect complementation of Constance's gentle, loving and warm demeanor. That he possessed noble blood while she was poor was their biggest difference, albeit it bothered neither of them. It did cause a major issue when, a year later, Alastair announced to his family that he had asked Constance to marry him. There was no great enthusiasm among them to welcome a poor orphan girl to the family that was so proud of its aristocratic ties, even if their status had considerably faded since their heyday generations ago. But the young man, whose father had died in the Crimean war, was determined to go through with the wedding, with or without the family's consent. Although reluctantly but they eventually relented and soon Constance Rose left the orphanage to begin a new, married life.

Although the marriage itself was happy, there was no day going by without someone reminding her of the status difference – all without Alastair's presence, of course. As he matured he clearly became the man of the house so neither his sisters nor any other family member wanted to disrespect him. Respecting Constance was another matter. While they grew to accept her as a part of the family and there were no ongoing tension, there was a certain distance between the young wife and the relatives of Alastair. That wasn't what had her usual cheery demeanor continuously fading, however. Four years into the marriage they still hadn't been blessed with a child and that had all the family disappointed for numerous reasons. While both Alastair and Constance hoped for one to complete their lives, the rest of the family found it shameful for them to be childless, finding yet another thing to be displeased with. The family doctor concluded she evidently wasn't fertile, which saddened the couple. Given her background Constance occasionally mentioned the idea of adopting from the orphanage but unfortunately Alastair, although for different reasons, seemed to agree with his family that it was unacceptable.

Eventually Alastair's insistence paid off, for one sunny afternoon, Constance hurriedly walked the halls of the house, to, of course, find her husband in his study. The door hadn't even fully opened yet but Alastair was already certain of the identity of his visitor. His beloved wife was the only one who never knocked when she came to see him – and the only person who was allowed to enter in such fashion. Glad to take a break from studying the family's worrying finances, he rose from his chair to meet his wife.

"Alastair, I need to speak with you."

Encircling her in his arms, he smiled. "Is it urgent, darling? Maybe we could do something better rather than talk…"

"Oh, Alastair." She swatted him gently on the chest. "I have something to tell you." She grinned excitedly.

"Do you?" He asked before pressing a soft kiss on her lips, evidently intent on convincing her to do it his way.

"I'm pregnant." She blurted out.

It took the news a few moments to register on his mind for he stared at her blankly, half expecting her to be joking. But there was no mistaking in the twinkling blue eyes, the rosier than usual cheeks and the brightest smile he had ever seen on her face.

"You're… you're pregnant?" His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Yes!"

"Are you sure? Constance, are you _absolutely_ certain?" He asked, dead serious.

But his wife wasn't surprised about his hesitation, nor would she joke about something like this. She nodded eagerly.

"I've suspected it for a while but didn't want to raise false alarm. I saw Doctor Barclay today and he confirmed my condition. We are expecting a baby!"

A smile finally spread across her husband's face and he laughed in delight before picking her up and spinning her around. Then he remembered how long it took for her to get pregnant and immediately put her down.

"How foolish of me." He said. "You've got to rest. What else did the doctor say? Are you both healthy, are there any necessary precautions need to be taken?"

"Now, don't start with that, love." She warned him. "He did say I need to stay put and rest as much as I can but…." That was all that Alastair needed, without further ado he bent down and picked her up.

"Then you are going to rest, dear wife, and that's an order." Constance laughed and snuck an arm around his neck while he carried her back to their room.

To her delight, he didn't immediately return to his study but laid down on the bed with her instead, hugging her to him and lovingly stroking her upper arm. She rested her head on his chest, enjoying this rare moment during the day with her husband. He was always so busy, it was mainly the late afternoons and the nights that they could really spend alone.

"Do you think we'll have a boy or a girl?" She asked.

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter." He smiled. "What I'm sure of is that we'll have a wonderful child."

"Maybe we'll have a little boy… a spitting image of you."

"Or a little girl… as beautiful as her mother." She smiled at his words and raised her head to press a soft kiss on his lips.

"I hope the family will take the news well."

"They will be delighted." He told her softly and squeezed her gently. Constance wasn't so sure about that, sometimes she got the feeling he didn't quite notice the gap that still existed between her and his family. But she would never trouble him with such ideas, he had been very preoccupied with the family business and being a girl who had had and came from nothing, she was just appreciative of everything she had now.

Constance's doubts, although only partially, proved to be founded. There was relief and even some celebration when it was revealed that she was with child, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was some disappointment, too. She had long suspected that the family would have loved Alastair to leave her on grounds of being unable to bear him a child. But Constance never wished ill on anyone, neither was it in her nature to pick a fight. It was her husband who was ready for whatever battle necessary. Nevertheless, what she considered to be a miracle after the doctor's diagnosis, was nothing more than a natural development for the family, making her feel as if achieving the simplest nature given joy had her challenged. That one of Alistair's sisters, Wilhelmina, was much older yet unmarried and childless seemed to be naturally tolerated while Constance's struggle to get pregnant was considered a shortcoming. But even that couldn't cloud her joy over her pregnancy.

What did take a toll on her were the following months. It soon became clear that it wasn't only a miracle pregnancy but also a difficult one. She was ordered to bed rest and she had to be carefully observed. The doctor wasn't satisfied with her progress but Constance did everything that she was told. Her days passed slowly and somewhat lonely. Before the pregnancy she would spend her time outside, either helping the others around the house or taking a stroll in the garden but that was out of the question for the time being. The financial troubles of the family, which she only suspected by the constant frown on her husband's face, kept Alastair very busy, too. But he seemed intent on not troubling her with it so he refused to talk about it with her. At nights they were busy discussing their future and trying to come up with names which took her mind off her weakened state.

"Wilbur! " Alastair exclaimed which in turn made his wife grimace in dislike.

"Abner?" She suggested, drawing a reaction much similar to her own.

"What do you say about Archer?" He asked and for a moment she considered it.

"I'd take Cecil over that one."

"Angus?" Alastair offered.

"Mhm." She considered it. "I like it." She smiled.

Coming up with a name for a girl proved to be much harder. Alastair really supported the idea to name the child, if it would be a girl, after her mother, but oddly, Constance sided with his family on that matter. Her name had a story behind it and she didn't want it to be her daughter's. Her child would have a family and would not be abandoned like she had been if Constance had anything to do about it. As for the family, they wanted something more aristocratic, something that would fit right in to their rank. The upside of it for Constance was that they definitely had a warmer attitude to the child's arrival to the family than its mother's back then. They often underestimated her, lacking to realize that she had her wits despite not having had the opportunity to attend good schools. So she had no doubt about the fact that they intended to groom the child as part of a highly esteemed family. Constance didn't mind, she had learned to deal with feeling the odd one out, it was only her child she would absolutely protest to be treated badly. Alastair's family very much wanted the baby to be named after the matriarch, Adelaide, who, coincidentally, had been the hardest to win over in the first place. Her mother-in-law never quite warmed to her and even in her old age remained convinced that a poor orphan should have stuck to her own kind.

Constance refused to get upset about it but she didn't need to, either. Alastair, who had assumed the role of the leader of the family, had made it clear that the decision would be his and Constance's alone and they would let everyone know as soon as the baby was born and the gender was determined. What made her really happy was that her husband never made her feel anything less than his equal. That the family did not hold the rank that they tried to live up to was somewhat amusing to her. While they were still respected and had a well known history, along with several other families, they had lost their real dominant status. Constance had made a vow to herself to teach her child that what really mattered was what was in the heart and not in the blood.

Going into labor was beyond her expectations and did not feel as wondrous as painful. The doctor had warned that it was going to be difficult, what Constance didn't know was that Alastair was alerted that his wife may not make it through. It was the most painful four hours of her life and the most stressful for him. The others gathered in the lounge of the family residence to show him support but neither Alastair nor his wife paid them much attention. He continued walking up and down by the door of their bedroom, hating every single painful moan or scream that he could hear from the inside. He wanted to be by his her side, to hold her hand and do whatever he could but the Doctor had ordered him to leave the room.

All Constance could think of was her baby. She felt weak and hot, lightheaded and nauseous at once. The intense focus on the doctor's face made her both worried and reassured. The latter for he was obviously doing his best but the former for the fact that something didn't seem right. When she was asked to push again, it felt like she was asked to take her final breath. It was painful and oh so hard and all she wanted to do was rest and sleep. But her baby wasn't born yet, she knew that, so she mustered all her hidden strength and pushed.

A while later Alastair sat in a chair outside, his face buried in his hands. If the screams were hard to hear, then the silence was ten times worse. He anxiously awaited any kind of news and he couldn't stand upright anymore. He feared the worst but dared not to barge into the room. And then, bringing the greatest relief he had ever heard, crying hit his ears. The little voice unmistakably belonged to a baby and it soon became obvious it wasn't so little after all. He was standing by the door by the time the Doctor opened it, wiping the sweat from his own face with one, and holding a little bundle in the other.

"Congratulations." The doctor told him and carefully handed the baby to the awestruck father. The creature in his arms was very tiny, so very little and for a moment he worried he would do harm to the little body.

"You have a daughter." The doctor interrupted his reverie but it was an information Alastair did not need. Just a look at the baby in his arms revealed the same beautiful eyes that her mother had. That brought his thoughts back to Constance and his stomach tightened in a knot. His head snapped up to the doctor.

"My wife?" Was all he managed to ask, containing his anxiety upon the Doctor's troubled face.

"She's asleep." He told her. "She was too weak to hold her. It was touch and go for a while, Sir, but I'm confident she can make it. She needs plenty of fluids and a lot of rest. I'll continue to frequently monitor her in the upcoming days."

"Can I see her?"

"Certainly, but I'll have to ask for your understanding and advise you not to keep her up long."

"Thank you, Doctor."

The sight that greeted him inside the room would have horrified him had the joy and relief not bubble in his veins already. The lights were dim and the nurse nodded and bowed a little in greeting before she hurried outside with the dirty sheets.

Although she appeared to have been cleaned, the many covers she was under evidently made his sleeping wife hot. Her hair was still damp and fresh sweat glistened on her skin as he carefully lowered himself on the bed right next to her. The baby had stopped crying a while ago and looked peacefully asleep, too, in her father's arms. Alastair extended a hand to gently caress his wife's face, trying to wake her as carefully as possible. She stirred upon his touch and he smiled at her when her eyes slowly focused on him.

"Darling." He whispered, wiping a stray lock away from her sticky forehead. "You did it. Meet your daughter, Miss Mary Poppins."

A tired but emotional smile spread across her face when the beautiful face of their little daughter came into view.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Mary Poppins and the other characters belong to PL Travers and Disney… the characters in this fic in particular actually belong to Disney. The story is based on the movie, not the books. I make no money of this, I'm just having fun.

------------------------------------------

With his wife peacefully asleep once again, Alastair Poppins proudly descended the stairs with his new daughter in his arms. The little one was out as a light and wasn't bothered the slightest by the increasing noise his family was making as they approached them. Alastair had always been the pride and joy of the family, the favorite child of his deceased father, and the one they had put great hopes in. With the untimely death of Alastair Poppins senior, he was old enough to naturally step into his footsteps and keep the family afloat in these troubling times. So his wishes to marry Constance, despite the family's initial protest, had been a sure event to be occurred. Given the fact that the little one was Alastair's child, too, after all, the family was very interested and anxious to get news.

Gasps and cheering greeted him when they finally noticed the father carrying his child and he had hardly stepped inside the room when they surrounded him, bombarding him with questions.

"It's a girl." Alastair beamed.

"How precious."

"Looks like you, Alastair."

"What's the name?"

"Mary." He smiled down at the baby. "Mary Poppins."

"Let me see, son." 76 year old Adelaide Poppins couldn't move around as easily anymore because of her age as well as numerous illnesses. Alastair complied with his mother's wishes and approached her seated form on the couch, handing her the baby.

There was a most intense scrutiny in the way she observed her granddaughter. She wasn't the first grandchild but was definitely different than the rest. Whether it was real approval or just to please the golden son, even Alastair wasn't sure, but his mother nodded in apparent satisfaction and handed Mary back to her father. Congratulations were in order and it all came his way but only after a few minutes Adelaide commanded his son to return his daughter to her crib, such newborn baby needed her rest and a more sterile environment. His family slowly dissolved and retired for the night, too, after he had left the room, happy to finally call it a day after such intense evening. Yet among the joy and curiosity surrounding the baby, no one asked about her mother.

Constance's recovery was slow and it took her a couple of weeks before she could finally get out of bed. Thankfully her daughter was great motivation and was what kept her going each single day. The couple's happiness was apparent, little Mary proved to be as much joy as they had anticipated despite Constance's frail health. Alastair had been really worried but the Doctor assured him he was doing his best for his wife. Since he had been the long trusted family doctor, Alastair eased up a bit. But it wasn't until Constance made her first steps out of bed alone that had him feel real relief. Little Mary was a miracle child and was treated as such by her parents. She had an unusually high voice and it was impossible to miss if she was awake and required attention. As the weeks passed it became apparent that she was an adorable mixture of her parents. She had a few of her father's features but her eyes were her mother's. So was its color, it was the most beautiful blue shade they had ever seen. In addition, she was a wonderful child overall. Alastair's family was more than eager to have they say in how she should be raised while Constance was still recovering. While initially the help was welcome, soon Constance's longing for her child had her worrying about her welfare. She didn't think they would do Mary any harm but feeling weaker than in usual left her rather vulnerable and lonely, wishing to care for her little girl. She was aware she had never been fully accepted by the family and she couldn't even be there for her daughter. Her mood considerably improved as she got stronger and soon she became inseparable from her child, which made Alastair happy but in the background wasn't as well received by the family.

Every parent thought their child was the most precious and special in the world, but it was the day when Mary turned 8 months old that Constance became convinced their little girl was indeed different. Singing to her daughter softly in the garden, enjoying the warm late afternoon sunshine, Constance had a most difficult time trying to get Mary to take a little medicine the Doctor had prescribed as a precaution before autumn would arrive.

"Oh Darling, you are not making it easy on Mummy." Constance sighed when Mary nearly knocked the spoon out of her hand.

While the little girl was cheerful and warm, there were certain traits she definitely inherited from her father which was apparent by this age, too. For instance, despite being a toddler, she wasn't easy to distract. Most children could get preoccupied by other activities to take their minds off something they were not supposed to do but Mary seemed to have inherited her father's insistence. She was also very observant, Constance sometimes felt it was nearly impossible to hide anything from her. Given her 18 years in the orphanage, she had enough experience with children of all ages and she had to admit, her own was by far the most challenging. She was also the most wonderful, for all difficulties aside each day was a joy with her.

What Mary really loved was if her mother sang to her. That was Constance's little trick if Mary was being a little difficult, for her voice always seemed to mesmerize her little daughter. So she had taken to sing everything she knew and lately began making up verses or lullabies on her own. Today, however, was different. She had sung practically everything she knew and had come up with yet Mary refused to take the last spoonful of that very bitter tasting medicine. Frankly, Constance didn't blame her daughter, it did indeed taste horrible. Not believing in forcing anything on her, she tried to be tricky and smart but it was proving to be impossible that day.

The successful idea came when her eyes settled on the coffee table nearby – and its content. She bit her lower lip for a second, wondering if it was a wise idea, but eventually concluded it shouldn't do harm. Her daughter watched her curiously as she dipped her finger into the sugar before sprinkling very little of it onto the spoon. Then she proceeded to gulp it down herself.

"Mhmmm." She exaggerated on her enjoyment a little. "Just a spoonful of sugar, darling, makes the medicine go down in a most delightful way."

That had to do the trick, for when she prepared the same mixture, albeit with very minimal sugar, Mary finally opened her mouth and actually gulped it down.

"Aren't you the most perfect little girl." Constance smiled and pulled Mary close to press a kiss on her cheek. The little girl threw her short arms around her mother's neck and held on to her, expressing her love in her own way not for the first time. Each time it happened Constance nearly had to fight her tears of joy, so she gently rubbed Mary's back before the moment would be over.

She set the toddler down on the blanket once again to sit comfortably while she put the lid back on the bottle and set it far from her daughter. When she turned back, she noticed a most intense focus on her face. Following her line of sight, she noticed a beautiful butterfly flapping its wings, keeping itself in the air and flying around them. Constance remained still not to scare the creature away so that Mary could enjoy what had her so utterly fascinated. Her smile grew when her daughter pointed a finger upwards and, in her own baby talk, spoke to the butterfly. She felt both fascinated and endeared by the little knowledge her daughter had of the world, the knowledge that yet had to expand. Yet her amusement quickly turned into astonishment upon what followed. Not only was the butterfly not spooked but it actually landed on Mary's finger, making the young child giggle. Constance remained motionless, not only because she wanted the moment to last but also out of surprise. She had spent many times trying to observe butterflies and she had mastered her technique of staying very still when one was nearby but not once had one landed on her finger as it just did on Mary's. What was even more surprising that it actually stayed there even when the child moved. When it finally stirred, it flew close to Mary's face and its wings tickled the toddler's skin which in turn made her laugh. Then, as quick as it came, the butterfly flew away. Oddly her daughter seemed to be at peace with that fact for she did not cry when she noticed its absence.

To say Constance was puzzled was an understatement, yet she couldn't shake the feeling of joy either. It was utterly miraculous to witness her daughter experiencing such a magical moment, as implausible as it should have been. Had Alastair not crashed into bed early and immediately fell asleep that night from exhaustion, she would have told him about it. Her husband had to work more and more for the family business had been going slowly downhill. While it naturally had her worried, too, at least their daughter provided some relief.

By the time Mary turned one, she was walking alone. By age two, she was articulating her words perfectly, albeit her sentences were very much like a child's – often lacking proper grammar. Nevertheless her parents were very proud of her and while her mother spent most of her time with her, the little girl was always delighted to play with his adoring father. Mary's earliest memory goes back to this stage of her life. It was yet another late night of work for Alastair Poppins, having met some businessmen and sorting out the paperwork afterwards in his study. Mary's mother had finished bathing her daughter but the child did not wish to go to bed just yet.

"Mary, darling, it's really late. It's time for bed, spit spot!" Constance told her daughter sternly which in turn earned her a pout. Mary seemed to have great need to have her father by her side, too, when she was put to bed but unfortunately in the last couple of weeks that was happening less and less frequently. Constance was aware of the increasing troubles Alastair had to deal with but he absolutely refused to share it with her, saying he didn't want her to worry and that he wanted her, Mary and the entire family to focus on their everyday tasks and everyday joys. Yet his absence was taking a toll on the young child and this particular night was yet another example.

"Father." Mary protested and confirmed her mother's suspicion. With a heavy sigh, Constance made up her mind. She bent down and picked Mary up before exiting their room and carrying her down to Alastair's study.

He looked up from his desk, expecting his wife's face to show up when the door opened but to his surprise, it didn't appear. Then his gaze shifted and to his amusement, little Mary appeared at the door way, looking curiously inside. As soon as she spotted her father, she darted inside with evident joy on her face.

"Father!"

"What are you doing still up at this late hour, little lady?" He questioned her as he picked her up, smiling at her pretty face.

"She refuses to sleep unless you see her to bed, too." Constance answered and Alastair turned to his wife, giving her an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry, Darling, I got caught up." Constance nodded in understanding but was overjoyed when her husband walked around the desk and approached her with Mary in his arms. "Let's put Mary to bed." He gave her a tired smile and she nodded before they returned to their room.

And what Mary can still recall to this day is the memory of her mother and father smiling down at her before she fell into a peaceful slumber that night.

By the time Mary's third birthday arrived, it was a rare occurrence that her father was present at her bed time. Aside from being busy at home, he now began spending considerable time away on a daily basis. While Constance remained understanding, it was taking a toll on her. That, unfortunately, left her rather defenseless whenever the family wanted to remind her of her background. That she had a child with Alastair didn't really change their attitude towards her, not even after all these years. She also often noticed the disapproving looks she received whenever they opposed the way she was raising Mary, but if there was one matter in which she was adamant, then it was her daughter. The Poppins family continued to take pride in their old status and more than once Constance noticed how they tried to instill that attitude in Mary, too. At three she wasn't old enough to understand why they refused to let her play with the children out on the streets. They always seemed to have lots of fun, which, Constance was sure, was very alluring to her daughter. Unfortunately their clothes suggested that they weren't in the 'acceptable' social rank and, to avoid any arguments or tension at home, Constance played with Mary herself, taking her mind off the children. From early on the mother daughter due had a joy for singing and to make up their own little songs which they maintained for the years to come.

There were other children in the family, too, but Mary didn't seem to find much interest in them. Out of five siblings, Alastair had four sisters. Wilhelmina was the oldest, coincidentally still unmarried and without a child yet had the most advice to give to everyone. Eugenie was the next in line, married with a 15 year old daughter Nelle, and evidently 'wearing the pants' in her own household. Celeste was a widow with two young boys, Benjamin, 10, and Henry, 8, and just like Wilhelmina, lived in the main family residence and was always ready to agree to disapprove of Constance's misdoings. And finally there was Millicent, five years older than Alastair and engaged, about to get married. All three children adopted the family's overall attitude and while 8 year old Henry was somewhat of an exception at first, soon he was sucked right in, too. That Mary herself refused to play with the children in the family was blamed on Constance even though she merely refused to force her child to do what she did not want to.

It was yet another instance when Alastair was away for a couple of days and Mary was having a really bad day. She had caught sight of the poor children outside once again and the longing in her eyes nearly broke her mother's heart. Constance felt she needed some fresh air and needing to get away for a little, even if just a few hours, from the house that felt so lonely and unfamiliar without her husband. So she took three and a half year old Mary out for a stroll, trying to take advantage of the warm late summer weather. It wasn't until she found herself at the step of her old orphanage that she realized where her subconscious was taking her. That the family would have disapproved she did not care about at the moment.

"Oh dearie, long time no see!" Mrs. Hearst exclaimed in delight and pulled Constance into a tight hug.

"Oh my Goodness, what a gorgeous child." Mrs. Bristowe said in much the same manner.

Both ladies had been her care takers and Constance thought of them fondly. If she could call anyone a true family, aside from Mary and Alastair, then they were it. Unfortunately she didn't have a chance to visit them in the last couple of years but neither wanted to hear excuses. They were simply happy to see her and her little daughter. Not all of the care takers were as friendly in the orphanage and certainly no child preferred it over a family. But Constance had absolutely no recollection of ever having anyone and these two ladies had been constant in her life with a warm attitude and demeanor.

They immediately invited her for tea and Constance was happy to accept. They went outside to the backyard and settled themselves in the uncomfortable iron chairs around a very tiny coffee table. The place was Mrs. Bristowe and Mrs. Hearst's usual resting place while the children of the orphanage played outside. It gave them great overview and was well needed for they hadn't been that young even when Constance first arrived to the orphanage. Mary, comfortably seated in her mother's lap, seemed to pay little attention to the two other ladies. Instead, she was preoccupied with the many children who seemed to have a blast in their ball game.

"Would you like to play with them?" Constance asked softly, wiping a stray lock of hair from Mary's forehead.

"Their clothes dirty."

"And?"

"No good."

"Mary darling…" Constance turned her daughter in her lap to look into her eyes. "It's not the clothes that matter. It's what's underneath."

"No dirty under clothes?" Mary asked and Constance laughed softly.

"They may be. But don't ever let that mislead you. They might as well be as nice and good as people with clean clothes. They just don't have as much."

Mary considered her mother's words for a moment before laughter made her turn her head back to the children. "Can I?" Mary's face lit up at the possibility and looked back at her mother, who nodded in approval.

That was all Mary needed, within seconds she was among the group of kids and, to Constance's delight, despite the lack of constant presence of children in her life that she could play with on a regular basis, Mary easily hit an according with them for soon she appeared to be having the time of her life in the ball game. That her daughter was soon just as dirty as the rest did not bother Constance at all. What mattered was Mary's happiness and not what the family would say.

As Mary grew, it became even more apparent just what a great mixture she was of her parents. Yet any similarity with Constance was frowned upon, albeit not often voiced. The family was living much tougher times than before and with only two men left in the family, Eugenie's weak-willed husband not counting, it was harder to keep it afloat. Constance wasn't as troubled by it for she was used to dire conditions. What she did worry about was Mary's future.

Mary was four and a half years old when Millicent finally married her beau. While the little girl was fond of her pretty clothes, wearing a hat wasn't really to her liking. Yet the gorgeous dress she was to wear to the wedding had a beautiful hat going with it. It was a gift from Adelaide, which meant the grandmother's wishes were to be honored. As beautiful as it was, Constance was smart enough to realize it wasn't only an act of kindness but Adelaide's way of ensuring little Mary was dressed the way she wanted her to. Constance had a difficult time to convince Mary to put the accessory on however.

"No!" Mary pouted.

"But it looks so beautiful on you, darling." Constance reasoned but Mary shook her head vehemently in disagreement. "You don't like the hat?" She asked.

"No." Mary answered simply. Constance sighed, trying to think of something that would avoid the family drama. As her gaze wandered, her eyes settled on the very thing she knew for a fact her daughter liked very much.

"Then how about…" Constance rose and walked to the nearby table in their room to get some of the fresh flowers from the vase. "…decorating it with your favorite flowers?" She asked and proceeded to stick some pretty white flowers into the band that held the hat together.

She was relieved to see Mary's eyes widen as she regarded it.

"Looks better, does it not?"

"It does." Mary responded and let her mother place it on her head. Regardless of Adelaide's double intentions, Constance beamed as she looked at Mary.

"You are the prettiest girl I've ever seen." Constance smiled and watched as Mary turned and stood on her tiptoes, trying to see her reflection in her father's shaving mirror that he had forgotten to pack -- for he was to leave again the next morning.

Constance laughed. "That won't do, darling. You should see all of your face at the same time." Then she lifted Mary and swirled her around, making her giggle, before putting her down in front of the large mirror.

"See how pretty you are?" Constance asked, smiling at the girl in the reflection. "So shall we go to the wedding dressed all pretty?"

"Very well." Mary stated, making Constance laugh heartily from the serious tone her daughter used, no doubt overheard from her father. Mary laughed at her mother's laughter and from that point on, there were always flowers pinned in her hat.

The following months weren't so happy anymore and, unfortunately, were edged into Mary's memory thoroughly and painfully. The family was in clear crisis. Adelaide, Wilhelmina, Celeste and her two sons, Alistair with Constance and Mary all lived in the main family residence. And after the wedding Millicent and her new husband found it most logical to move in, too, so they could maintain their lifestyle and keep the family residence going together. It was only Eugenie that lived in another house with her husband and daughter. Constance often wished she could have moved away and lived a separate life with Mary and Alastair but she respected her husband's responsibilities. She may have not gone to prestigious schools but even like that she could easily tell that the family plan was not working out. As much as Alastair worked, made deals and guaranteed the family's welfare on a weekly basis, the rest of the family was not as thoughtful about their spending.

Everything Alastair managed to spare and put aside so the Poppins' could make it through their financial crisis, the others spent it on their own luxuries. Constance was profoundly frustrated about this, for as selfless as she was, nearly 9 years into their marriage she began to feel lonely. Alastair was now away for weeks at the time and all the hard work he had pulled in was wasted by the others. Their careless spending kept her husband from her and Mary hardly saw her father. Soon the situation got so bad that Alastair had to begin working for companies as an advisor, which more often than not kept him long miles away.

The only ally Constance had in the family was Alastair's only brother. Albert was the second child, two years younger than Wilhelmina, yet it was nearly impossible to tell that the Poppins' had another son. Alastair was the baby of the family, also the smartest and the one they had placed biggest hopes in. Albert wasn't as smart or witty, nor was he as headstrong, yet he was one of the kindest and most warm hearted people Constance had ever met. Of course the family expected him to do his best, too, so he was left with the one thing nobody else wished to do: work in the family's shop on the main street of the town. Constance liked to visit him during the days and she would always take Mary along, singing together on the way.

Mary had turned five just a few months prior when Alastair left in hopes of making their one big deal that would help the family out and would save them from sinking down to the level where they would actually need to work. What was supposed to be only a week or two, soon turned into months. Mary could recall her mother sitting by the candle light late at nights, scribbling a response to her father's letters. She didn't have as much memory of her father as she did of her mother from her early years, but what she could precisely recall was that all those memories mostly turned into pieces of letters. Seeming restless for some reason, Constance dressed Mary warmly on a chilly autumn afternoon in 1877 and took her to see Uncle Albert at the shop.

„Bless my soul. It's Mary Poppins!" Uncle Albert had greeted the girl upon their arrival like he always did, articulating his delight and goofing around in such fashion that always made little Mary proud and giggly.

Munching happily on the gingerbread that they had gotten in Mrs. Cory's new shop on their way to Uncle Albert, Mary seemed preoccupied with eating as the adults engaged themselves in a conversation.

"I don't know, Albert, he's been gone so long. I have my doubts regarding this whole so-called opportunity." She sighed, uncharacteristically resigned.

"You have to keep faith in him." A young Albert tried to comfort her.

"I do. He's so smart and has a real knack for those things. But I miss him." She said and pulled her jacket a bit tighter around herself as she let out a small cough. "Mary misses him. Lately I've taken to avoid mentioning him in front of her so she won't be constantly reminded of his absence."

"I'm sure he misses you two as well."

"I've grown up an orphan, Albert, Mary has a father. It's not right for her to be deprived of him, it's not the life I wanted to give her."

"When is Father coming back?" Mary asked then, revealing that she was very much of an observant multi-tasker even at such a young age.

"Soon, darling." Constance answered with a smile that didn't seem genuine, before she coughed again.

"Are you well, Constance?" Albert asked, concerned. "That cough doesn't sound fine, maybe you should see Doctor Barclay. "

"I'm alright, thank you Albert." She patted his arm gently. "Just a little bit of a cold."

He acknowledged her dismissal with a nod before sighing. "One day it will all be fine." He tried to reassure her.

In the following days her mother's cough worsened. Mary specifically remembered how tired her mother seemed in those days. Doctor Barclay did come to see her, after all, and concluded Constance was up and about too much and she needed to cut back on working around the house. It was only as an adult that Mary realized her mother most probably had tried to busy herself to take her mind off her husband. She was ordered to rest and stay put for a few days for her cold was quite serious and her mother complied. There were days when Constance would spend hours asleep in her bed, hours when Mary was rather bored. While her cousins were around the house, she didn't like playing with them for they never entertained her long enough. They were unruly and conceited, once or twice even throwing it in her face that her mother was poor and an orphan. Mary had a surprising sharp tongue, sometimes going as far as making the boys cry if provoked enough. Since it was autumn, and an unusually cold one at that, in those days Mary found herself sitting by the window of her mother's bedroom, listening to her breathing while starting outside, wishing to see the green grass and pretty flowers that had faded.

Mary didn't really understand what exactly was happening but she could see the seriousness on everyone's face. Despite the long rest, her mother didn't seem to get better, in fact Mary overheard the doctor telling Aunt Wilhelmina and Aunt Millicent that Constance had a high fever. To her sadness she was not allowed to enter her mother's room, the most she could see of her were quick glimpses whenever someone opened or closed the door. Then there was the shocking day when her father arrived home. Mary was a sensitive child to pick up on the adults' mood more so than other children her age, and while she felt oh so happy in the warm and tight embrace of her dear Father, the worried expression on his features wasn't lost on her. She wanted to run to her mother to tell her that her Father was back but yet again, she wasn't allowed inside. She fought her tears when her father disappeared in the room and she was shut out once again. The events seemed to speed up after that fateful day. Although her father was home, she hardly saw any of her parents. Alastair did try to make it a point to spend some time with Mary, to reassure her that everything would be fine, but his smile never reached his ears and the twinkling was missing from his eyes.

Each time she asked to see her mother, she was told she was asleep and that she needed her rest. There was an alarming gloom that settled in the household that Mary didn't understand and she reached the point where she couldn't take it anymore. She lost her temper. She threw a hissy fit, screaming from the top of her lungs, demanding to see her mother. To her surprise, it worked and she was finally allowed to see her. It was darker in the bedroom than it was in the rest of the house, apparently so her mother could sleep better. Her face looked much paler than in usual and there were dark circles under her eyes but to Mary she was still the most beautiful creature she had ever seen.

"Mummy!" Mary exclaimed, ecstatic to finally see her beloved mother. "When can you come play with me?" She asked in a weak voice.

Constance gave her a smile that seemed to have required a lot of her strength before she raised her hand to cup her daughter's cheek. "Soon, darling." She said, her voice hoarse. She cleared it. "Mary, I need you to promise me something." Constance went on, running her fingers through Mary's neatly tied hair. "Promise me you'll always thrive to do good in your life and that you'll never stop using that beautiful voice of yours."

"I promise."

"And promise me you'll always remember how very, _very_ much I love you."

"Why are you asking me such strange things, Mummy?" She inquired, confused.

"Will you remember it?"

"Yes Mummy. I love you too. Oh, I'll bring you flowers!" Mary exclaimed all of a sudden. "They will make you feel better!" Without waiting for a response, Mary spun around on her heels and darted outside. It wasn't until she found herself in the garden that she realized autumn had arrived full force and there were none of the beautiful flowers anymore she loved to take care of with her mother. Mary stood at the flower bed with nearly nothing left of summer's beautiful bloom. Oh how she wished she could give her mother just one single flower so she could feel better. She stood there alone, disappointed, willing to find just the smallest one to be able to give her something. Then, to her astonishment, her wish came true. Right in front of her eyes a single flower came back to life, straightening and looking as stunning as it did a few months ago. Mary was absolutely delighted and proceeded to pick it up before she ran back inside.

Mary barely took notice of her father who was just exiting their bedroom and before anyone could have done anything about it, she stormed inside with her gift in hand.

"Mummy, look, it's for you." She exclaimed happily. But Constance wouldn't look. Her mother remained motionless, looking as peaceful as if she was sleeping. "Mummy?" Mary called to her again, grasping her arm to get her attention. But instead of her mother's response, she felt two strong arms go around her and lift her up.

"Why is she not taking the flower, Father?" Mary asked confused and profoundly sad. Her father was unable to answer and instead, with tears in his eyes, hugged his daughter close. And then Mary knew.

Constance was only 27 when she passed away and Mary later found out that her mother had succumbed to pneumonia.

Even for someone who was as perfect as she was, her memories of the following days were a blur. What Mary could specifically remember was grasping her father's hand during the funeral, refusing to look at the dark clad crowd surrounding them. Her eyes were fixated on her mother's coffin, hardly believing that her beloved mother was inside it and that she would never wake up again. Although she was very much of a child, Mary was much more observant and sensible than it was normal for her age. While it was all natural for her, it would only be years later that she would find out the reason behind it. But for the time being, all Mary knew was that she was sad beyond words, sadder than she had ever been.

Unfortunately it didn't end there. Only two days after the funeral, her Father took Mary aside to talk to her. Alastair Poppins hated every single word he had to tell his daughter but there was no other way. Constance was gone but life didn't stop. The family's situation improved only very little and there was dire need for him to leave again. He had considered taking Mary along with him, a fact she learned only much later, but concluded that would be too much of a change in her life. Besides, he wouldn't have time for her. So after much consideration and with a heavy heart, Alastair decided to put his trust in his family to continue to raise Mary while he was away. He told her that he needed to go away again but that he hoped it wouldn't be as long anymore. He promised he would write to her frequently and that she would be fine here with her Grandmother, Aunts and Uncles.

Mary took the news much better than he had anticipated. "I wish you stayed." She told him sadly but those were the only sentiments she expressed in words. She stared after him with sad eyes when he stepped through the door hours later and the sight of her would have been enough to break his heart had it not been ripped apart by Constance's death. After wandering aimlessly around in the silent house, wondering why everyone she loved left her, Mary finally moved to the family lounge.

That was how Uncle Albert found her hours later, perched up in the window seat, staring out into nothing in particular with a blank expression on her face. With a heavy sigh he moved closer and laid a gentle hand on her head. Mary looked up at the only face she still felt connected to and let him lift her off her seat. She welcomed the hug he engulfed her in wholeheartedly and wrapped her arms around his neck in return while he carried her up to her room.

"It will be alright, my dear." He told her in a tone she always found reassuring.

The flower she had picked for her mother was still in her hand for she had refused to let go of it. She kept rolling it between her fingers as her head rested on Uncle Albert's shoulder. It was still alive and beautiful and would only succumb to decay when she finally let go of it before she was put to bed that night.

_**To Be Continued…**_

_**Note: **_I know this was a little sad, but it should get happier soon, especially when Bert makes his entrance. ;)


End file.
